A Second Honeymoon? (aka The 9-Days-Left Blues)

One of the hardest weeks of my entire life is finally, mercifully, over.  I realize that sounds dramatic, but it's also a logical statement for a week where I've had at least one sort of final assessment for 4 out of my 5 classes (6 projects total), and every "last day of class" there's at a handful of people I won't be able to see again before we leave. Not to mention the fact that while I worked, my consciousness was just incredibly frustrated and distracted, since one of the MOST IMPORTANT POLITICAL EVENTS OF THE CENTURY is going on all around me, and I couldn't get involved.

I'm now in the home stretch, with one paper left and plenty of time for frolicking in eco-ecstasy, despite the fact that I've written myself one of the largest to-do lists I've ever made for myself.  And that's not to say, of course, that things aren't starting to get incredibly sentimental any time I ride the train while there's still daylight, and I have time to think about how those buildings will soon be removed from my daily routine, and how I'll soon be apart from this wonderful family I've been living with for four months.  I'm even getting sentimental over the Danish language, which has been a source of complaint from the start from almost everyone in a Danish class.  My final oral presentation was today, and while the memorization was a little rough, I was so proud of myself for being able to answer simple, non-rehearsed questions without being nervous.  I was even more proud when I was sitting on the train this evening and I realized that I might be able to have a small conversation with a ticket-checker if I'd needed to (I was out of my zone at the time, since the train decided to just pass right by my stop).  I wouldn't jump to conclusions that I'm 'falling in love' with the language, but I've certainly developed a connection to it.  This wasn't really a big concern of mine until today, after the minor catastrophe of possibly losing the Dansk-Engelsk dictionary I bought about a month after I got here.  Part of this is because I like to consider myself responsible and hate losing things that I invest any money or time in.  Well, I carried that dictionary around everywhere I went in Denmark, as if it was some sort of lifeline (although in reality I could get around just fine; I just wanted to be able to read signs).  Only now do I realize just how much I was counting on having it with me back in the states, both symbolic of the experience and as something that assures me what little language I picked up won't slip away (although it probably wouldn't have ACTUALLY helped that).  It's odd, really, like I'm starting to enter reverse-culture shock before I even leave Copenhagen.  I suppose I could buy a new dictionary to help whatever this feeling is, but now I just hate that I have to decide if it's worth the money.

At least I'm starting to let go of regrets of not going out and experiencing as much of city life as students who lived in the city or with other students were able to.  Though, it is a little sad that just today I discovered an amazing library to work in just outside of the hustle and bustle of Kongens Nytorv plaza (and actually, the buildings block out the sound from the square in an absurdly effective manner).  I went to Danmarks Kunstbibliotek (Art Library) with my friend Jill to look for some sources for our Women, Art, and Identity papers.  It's in what used to be the Royal Academy of Art, and the first part of the building is a warm, yellow room set up in a very contemporary style.  What's even better is the amazing old reading room to the side.  What drew both Jill and I to the room was the traditional "private library" set up:  high ceilings and two stories of books around the perimeter, with a tight corkscrew staircase up to the second level balcony.  But more important than its spacious charm were the wide black desks with double lamps and an atmosphere that promoted just the right noise level (quiet by lack of population).  I can't remember the last time I felt that at ease working in a library.  But maybe it's for the better that I didn't try it out earlier, since it has incredibly inconvenient hours anyway.

More pics are on fb.  For now you can see this one, which I took lying on the floor.  Yes, a librarian saw and probably thought I was a little over-excited about the stairs.  I can't blame him, since he was right.

The World is Ours , aka "modern art just gets me every time . . ."

My brain is still buzzing a little from the amazing field study I went on with Women, Art, Identity yesterday afternoon/evening.  It was a 6 1/2 hour trip with sensory overload and aching legs, but it was something I'd do again if I could!  We went both to the Ordrupgaard in Klampenborg and the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in Humlebæk.  Both were old summer homes/villas with added on modern architectural extensions, although the Ordrupgaard houses mostly the private, largely Impressionist collection of the original owner, while Louisiana is more of a proper museum.  Either way the setting in the Danish countryside was perfect for both galleries.  Art should be graced by the changing leaves, wildflowers, and/or the lapping waters of the Øresund Sound.

One of the best parts about Ordrupgaard was the building.  The old home had gorgeous and intricate woodwork, melded into the high ceilings of the late 19th century.  But Iranian architect Zaha Hadid also perfectly blended her curvy, glass-paneled extension onto the grounds.  This wing currently houses Munch og Denmark--a selection of paintings and drawings by Edvard Munch when he spent time in Copenhagen.  I didn't know much about Munch before, but I have a huge appreciation with what he does with color--both to make things to stand out and how he blends bright colors into neutral ones that we expect in images.  He also had this crazy story called Alfa og Omega.

But the Louisiana museum was just INCREDIBLE.  It's a very large estate--with part of the museum hidden underground, while the rest is either hidden by trees or is outside as a part of the sculpture garden (to the right is a picture of Janey-Waney by Alexander Calder).  The building is joined in a circle, so it's very easy to navigate around, although--like with many art museums--it's hard not to feel like you're missing some totally awesome corner.  I didn't really spend much time in the permanent collection or in the green architecture exhibition because there were two others that really took a lot of my focus. 

The first was called Faith, Hope, Love, and was a series of photos in America by Danish photographer Jacob Holdtz.  I took no pictures, but was just in awe at how he captured some of the darkest corners of American society, taking notes from an outsider perspective, judging it, and still making friends:  with Klan members, revolutionaries, the poorest of the poor, millionaires on plantations, a serial killer.  It was incredibly moving, and surprisingly not at all offensive with his (obviously) negative story to tell about my own country.

Then there was The World is Yours, which captured contemporary art in some of its best moments.  It was the single most interactive (yet still serious) art exhibit I have ever visited--including a wall you had to smell, a microscope that played the Police, a mirror that creates an army out of one viewer, a cloud of microphones that sings the sounds of India and Pakistan, a stage that allowed the audience to manipulate radio playback by stepping in the lights, and (last but not least) a toilet that gives the user a chance to relieve oneself with full view of the sculpture garden.  The whole exhibition just gave normal museum-guests agency that they wouldn't normally have.  Some pieces were joyful, ridiculous, but others--including Singing Cloud--addressed a very real, modern problem.  But the world is ours, right?  If we can have agency in a museum, we can have it in the real world.  I've only ever been to three different countries, but that doesn't mean I have any less ability to explore, to feel, and to change.

Weekend Update

Looking ahead for my schedule, I decided it was best to post one massive entry about recent goings-on.  After all, I'm going to Jylland (aka Jutland, the western peninsula) this weekend, and I don't want to be behind on my entries when I get back!

Weekends continue to be a haven of various experiences from different aspects of Danish cultures.  My Saturday was the most normal day, per say.  It started with some cleaning (ok, I vacuumed my room, after they literally vacuumed the entire house at about 8 in the morning), and then I went with my family to watch my host brother's (Jonas) handball game.  Handball is a sport that is more commonly played in Denmark than anywhere else, and it's like a cross between football (soccer) and basketball, with physical contact/defense added in.   Afterward, my family was hosting a dinner party.  We had been warned that Danish dinners (even on normal days) can last for several hours, and this was no exception (though it wasn't that different from a dinner party back home).  The length is aided by the long space of talking (or watching tv--like Denmark vs. Portugal world cup qualifying match) between courses:  salad, meal, desert.  The drinks changed with the courses, too!  We went from beer, to wine, and then to coffee and tea with desert (after which the men went back to beer). 

This little party was less of a lesson in traditional Danish meals and more of just an experience of Danish life through the conversations.  This included a much-anticipated (albeit small) discussion about the American health care debate.  All that really happened was a consensus between the four adults and I that a change was needed in American health care to provide it for those who can't afford it.  They noted that wait times can be long for care in Denmark, but they didn't complain.  I also learned that most businesses provide employees with a basic insurance for normal, minor doctor's visits.  They only rely on the government care for the bigger issues, like heart surgery. 

The only shock I had was when one guest--14-year-old Thomas--was offered some food in Danish, and he responded, "Fuck yeah!"  I could only laugh, because while "fuck" is a common word among American youth--we usually don't dare use it at the dinner table.  In the subsequent discussion, I learned that it's common here because it's on the American movies on the television so often (the subtitles are censored; the audio track is not), and because it's an English cuss-word, it's generally considered ok.  What was even more surprising to me was when I went to the "children's" section of the Statens Museum for Kunst (the National Gallery) this afternoon and I saw a painting entitled, "OH MY GOD! That plant is a fucking vacuum!"  It should be noted that said painting was not the only questionable item in the kid's gallery.  I'm getting the sense that anything goes when it comes to art in this country. 

All this being said, the greater part of my weekend took place not at home, but at the Technical University of Copenhagen (DTU) in Lyngby for CO2PENHAGEN--the world's first carbon-neutral music festival.  It was a pretty uneventful Friday night--when I took an 8 pm to 4 am volunteer shift so that I could get a free pass to the festival.  This involved me essentially bouncing for the lounge area for bands, which is normally a student bar.  I met more Danes than I have on any other occasion!  Unfortunately, they were drunk and the conversations usually didn't go very far beyond the set of 5 questions I was consistently asked.  At least they were friendly (no, really--they could be a lot of fun).  It was also unfortunate that I didn't get to spend much time with the other volunteers because my supervisor kept me at my post most of the time.  They were an interesting bunch of people, though--mostly international students (only one was Danish--all but 5 others I met were American).  I think that speaks a lot about the universal appeal this type of event has.

It was more eventful when I went back on Sunday.  I wandered around and saw the tents about the earth.  I signed a giant petition that will be given to the delegates at COP15.  I paid 25 kroner and hopped on a bike until I reached 75 kcal to have a smoothie.  I watched some short films, stopped by the music, and took some Danish buttons about loving the environment from the transportation representatives there.


One thing that was great about the festival was that they didn't buy any carbon offsets, which are kind of a cheap way to reach "carbon neutrality."  However, that doesn't mean that they used completely carbon-free energy supplies.  In fact, while all their sources are renewable, the majority of them are biofuel and do emit CO2.  The organizers argue that since this involves re-planting, this can be considered carbon-neutral.  I'm not sure if I agree, but I admire the festival's purpose just the same.  Either way--it's still a step towards being conscious consumers in all aspects of our lives:  even the exorbitant entertainment sector.

And I mean, really--any place that can get teams to bike to power a DJ and LED lights is cool.  Because of this, I can actually officially say I biked with an Italian cycling team, since "Bella Italia" needed help generating more power than "Denmark + French guy" and I was bored and wanted to get on a bike again--even if I was wearing a dress, leggings and snow boots!  Besides, those stationaries that they had were pretty cool.  This also inspired me to finally get on my host-bike this morning and explore the countryside and the network of pedestrian/bike paths around my municipality, but that's another story entirely, and it's time to sign off from this long post. 

Enjoy and please tell me your thoughts!  If you're interested, more photos of the festival are on Picasa and fb.

Destination Dystopia: Christiania

DIS students have Wednesdays set aside for field studies--3 hour trips to places around town as a supplement to class material.  We usually have about two of these per class, which means that some days, we have an entirely free day.  My friends and I decided it would be worthwhile to take a trip to Christiania--the "free town" on the southern outskirts of Copenhagen in Christianhavn.  My host family referred to it as a "special place," and were surprised when I said I hadn't heard of it before.  It's famous for its antics around Europe. 

I must say that we were a little disappointed.  The concept of a "free town" sounds incredible (though not necessarily ideal), and I was envisioning a bustling little village of hippies.  That is half-true, but Pusher Street (yes, you heard me right) was the only place the slightest bit lively, and even then, it was mostly drug paraphernalia, rasta-related souvenirs, and your regular hippie clothing and accessories (though I did see a purse I liked . . . thinking of going back to get it).  It was surprisingly unoriginal.   

There were some very cool parts, too.  It is a very open community that has an emphasis on sharing resources and rules by consensus.  I also loved the murals on the walls, mosaic sculptures hidden in bushes, a few art studios, and several make-shift hand-painted playgrounds with tree forts, tire swings, and old equipment (I really wanted to play on them, but I also just kept wondering, "Kids live here??").  Since the land the town rests on used to be military area, the majority of non-residential buildings are warehouses, which means that cafes tended to have this welcoming, open atmosphere..  One of them--The Moonfisher--not only had a giant mural of a man sitting on the moon, smoking a joint and fishing, but it also proclaimed itself the "Safest Cafe in the World--over 6000 armed police inspections since March 2004." 

That being said, this was all in the context of a rather dingy area, with overgrown plants, neglected roads and pathways, and houses that ranged from the visionary to something so make-shift that it was almost slum-like.  Since the residents are essentially squatters on land owned by the state of Denmark (although the rest of the town has to approve for them to build there), residents don't pay property tax (they still pay income tax if they have a job and they recently started paying taxes on utilities).  Personally, I think that's a little selfish of them to take advantage of Danish welfare while not fully participating.  It's stupid that instead of focusing on how to make Christiania more self-sufficient, residents instead declare their freedom with frivolities like minting their own currency.

I know it could be argued that without Christiania, there would be a lot more people who can't afford to live in the Copenhagen area.  To be honest, I think the town should stay--there's no reason to get rid of it.  The issue with pot trade could probably be dealt with a lot better, but I have no opinion about it.  However, despite its "free" nature, I wish the country and the town could come together to arrange an official agreement about their status.  It might make it easier for everyone, or even improve the state of living within the town.

(on the back of the entrance gate to Christiania)